


The Mystical Powers of a Friendship Bracelet

by Morrigan2345



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Karen POV, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:06:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan2345/pseuds/Morrigan2345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy keeping them a secret from her best friends, but it's necessary given the fact that Matthew Murdock and Frank Castle seem to fight all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystical Powers of a Friendship Bracelet

**Author's Note:**

> There's no on screen fighting, it's really just some Karen angst and some humor thrown in bc i like to laugh.
> 
> anyway, all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine!

It happens, unexpectedly of course, but her and Frank reach some unusual brand of happiness eventually.  They do things that would be considered normal for a couple, they walk his dog together, eat most meals together, small things that make her smile when she goes to bed with his arm around her waist.  They even took a small road trip together, some bum had ran to Canada and she _needed_ that lead, and in all honesty she didn’t need Frank there for that but she had asked him and he asked her if he could bring the dog. 

They do these things with increasing regularity, but, he still goes out, in the middle of the night, to hunt people down.  He still has guns upon guns stacked wall to wall throughout his apartment, an apartment that she hardly visits.  She writes piece upon piece about The Punisher, only to come back home and tuck herself under his arms, waking up to find him reading the article the next morning as he drinks her coffee. 

It’s happiness, their happiness, but it’s one that most would not consider to be _normal_ , and it’s the reason why she hasn’t told Matt or Foggy about them.

It’s also the reason why, one morning as her and frank watch T.V., her feet in his lap, when there’s a knock on the door and Foggy’s voice floats through, she’s falling on the floor and suddenly, embarrassingly, shoving a semi-naked, quietly protesting, Frank in her closet.

She quickly grabs a shirt, to cover her own semi-nakedness, and makes sure she doesn’t look like someone’s fingers were running though her hair this morning. 

When she yanks the door open, looking as good as she’s going to get, Foggy is impatiently tapping his fingers on her doorframe, “Foggy, it’s Saturday, shouldn’t you be at home, asleep, possibly waking up with a hangover today?” she asks her definitely not sleeping and or hungover friend, who is, unbelievably, shoving himself past her and making himself comfortable on her couch.

“Matt’s being a dick.” He says simply as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Foggy.  _Saturday_.” She emphasizes and he huffs, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling.

“I know, alright, I’m sorry.” He says, and she’s about to snort because he really doesn’t sound it, but then he looks back at her and her heart _constricts_.

She takes a second to mentally apologize to Frank, and strategically plan how to smuggle him out of her apartment when Foggy’s distracted, before taking a seat next to her best friend.

“We know Matt can be a…” she tries, but trails off, trying to find a less offensive word then-

“Dick.” Foggy finishes, clearly not caring about it.

She clicks her tongue, trying not to snicker, “Yes, but the point is, is that we’ve accepted the fact, and we’ve all moved past it.” She says wisely, after all this time her and Matt have obviously rekindled their friendship, but it’s nothing as it was before.  It is, she thinks happily, something stronger.

“True,” Foggy concedes, “but it’s still annoying.”

“Mmh.” She hums, nodding her head.

“And it hurts, you know, in a manly way or whatever.”

She pats his shoulder lightly, “What did he do?” the _this time_ goes unsaid, but they both hear it anyway, Foggy sighs and bites at his nails before talking.

“I went to see him, last night, ask if he wanted to go to Josies’, thinking it’d be just us because I remembered you telling me about long nights and sleeping for forty days or something.  When I got to his apartment though, he was there, beaten straight to hell, semi-conscious, and bleeding everywhere and- Well, I guess that’s why I’m not battling that hangover this morning.” He finishes, tone becoming sadder by the end of his sentence and she has to pause before she continues.

Frank had, on the occasion, talked about Matt, or _Red_ as she heard him say, and their _scuffles._ Just last night, she thinks not surprised in the slightest, Frank had come home, limping and wiping blood off of his face.  “ _Not mine.”_ He had said when he caught her looking over, concerned.  She had been relived at his admission, knowing that he usually never came to her in this state (meaning covered in someone else’s blood) unless it was an emergency, usually a life threatening one.

Now she just sort of feels a bit sick.

She just wishes, sometimes when she’s having a good day, that the people she loved could get along.  Not even in a brotherly way, or even in a _so-you’re-a-vigilante-too-huh_ way, she just wants them to stop _beating each other-_

“Karen-“

“Ah, shit.  I’m sorry, Foggy, I don’t know why I’m-“ she sniffles loudly instead of finishing her sentence, embarrassed when she feels a tear fall down near her mouth.  She roughly wipes her face and thinks, suddenly, of the fact that not only is Foggy sitting in front of her and watching her cry, Frank can probably hear her too.

But Foggy just looks at her, bumps their knees together softly, “I know what you mean, Karen.  I swear he’s alright, the reason I’m here actually is because he kicked me out.  Can you believe it?  Said I was mothering him, he told me that he’s fine, that he can _take care of himself._ ” And she finds herself laughing at his impersonation of their friend, which is, if she’s being honest, spot on.

“You do mother him.” She tells him and he flaps a hand at her, passing a tissue over with his free one.

“That’s beside the point.”

She laughs again, this time quieter, and doesn’t speak until Foggy says, “It was Castle.” To which she says, “I know.” And tries not to blurt _who is also in my closet, in his underwear, so please don’t say anything mean_.

“They’re fighting less these days.” He tries, and even if Foggy doesn’t know about how _much_ Karen cares for Frank, he knows enough that, even after all this time, she’d still care for him.  She’s starting to think she’s become too predictable when it comes to Frank Castle.

“Still are though, obviously.” She says, a little too forcefully, making Foggy frown.

“He still cares about you, I think.” He says uncertainly.

“What?” she asks, not because she doubts that Frank cares about her, but she’s stunned that not only did someone figure this out, even when _she_ had a hard time accepting it, but that  _Foggy_ was the one to do it.

“I don’t know,” he pauses, clearly not knowing if she wants to hear this, “There was that one time those guys- When they hurt you, who ended up, uh, disposed of.” He says, and she’s only ever heard him this unapologetic about Frank’s killing when it came to this subject.

Frank himself finds it ironic that the lawyer who always picks justice in the eyes of the law and always, vocally, labels him _psychotic_ would pick one of his most brutal _disposals_ to cheer on.  She just finds it sad and upsetting, and, unfortunately, a little reassuring.

“Mmh.” She says hurriedly, trying to find something else to talk about because she’d rather not talk about Frank like he’s not hiding in her closet, her eyes flick to the door a couple of times.

“Or that time he told Matt to tell you that he was alright.” He says, weirdly insistent all of a sudden.

“Which I knew.” She says.

“Which you knew.  Apparently.”

She blinks at his investigative tone, “Apparently.” She mimics.

He blinks back at her, silence settling over them as he rubs at his chin.

“Karen-“

“Hmm?” she hums, innocently.

“Have you been-“

“No.” she says, too quickly, and his eyes _widen_ and she’s going to _die_.

“ _Karen!_ ” and this is the highest she’s ever heard his voice go for as long as she’s known him.

“ _Foggy_!” she says back, equally as loud and shrill.

“Karen.” he says, voice coming back down to his normal pitch, a disappointed flare to it though.

“Foggy…” she says, and, unsettled by these unseen events, can’t say anything more.

Foggy can, apparently, but before he can say anything, there’s a voice ringing throughout her apartment, making her cringe and Foggy almost fall off his chair, “Can I come out now?” Frank yells through the cheap wood of her closet door and Foggy makes a sound like a man getting repeatedly stabbed.  He scrambles back up to face her, clutching his knees with white knuckles.

“He’s _here?_ ”

“Um.” She says, intelligently.

“Are you _shitting_ me?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, great,” he says, nodding to himself, his eyes unfocusing as he looks out her window, “at least I’ll die on a beautiful day.”

Karen sighs and runs a hand through her hair, “He’s not going to kill you.”

“If I promise not to kill him can I come out?” Frank yells again from the closet, only to be an asshole.

“Yeah.” She yells back, exasperated, and Foggy’s eyes are suddenly on the door that’s opening and then he’s slapping a hand over his and her eyes, which she promptly pushes away, as Frank step out looking annoyed and a bit too amused for her liking.

“Why is he naked, Karen, _why is he naked?_ ” the hysteria is back and she rolls her eyes.

“Frank go put on some pants.” She says and he grunts back as she slowly pries Foggy’s hands from his eyes, “Foggy, look at me.”

“No.” he says stubbornly, and she’s going to punch him until, out of nowhere, his eyes spring open, “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with The Punisher.” He says, disbelievingly.

“Well-“

He talks over her, “He literally fights Matt until bones break! Also, murder.” he says, this time there’s a force to his voice, something that would once make her feel ashamed, but now only making her angry.

“Frank has come back home with eyes he could barely see out of, Matt beats him up too.” She finishes, coolly enough for Foggy to purse his lips.

“I wouldn’t say he beats me up.” Frank says, coming back wearing nothing but some sweatpants.

Asshole.

“So?” Foggy asks her, completely ignoring Frank.

“So what?” she asks back, confused.

“What does it matter, he probably starts most of the fights.”

And before she can get _mad_ , Frank's cutting in saying, “You know, he’s right.” And shrugs when her eyes cut to him.

And she’s gearing up to say something scathing, something that would keep her angry, but what comes out of her mouth is, “That doesn’t mean that they should fight.  God, all they do is _fight_.” And, honestly, she tries not to, but her voice _cracks_ , and then, all of a sudden the atmosphere in the room changes and she can only hear her own breathing.

She clears her throat faintly and stands up, wanting to leave, not wanting to be weak around anyone for the second time this day, “I think you should go, I’ve got work that I need to do.” She says, not knowing if she’s aiming it at Foggy or Frank or both.  Nonetheless, she walks to her bedroom and shuts the door with a faint click before landing face first into a bed the smells like both her and Frank.

And with that, the mountain of lying and cover ups she had building up comes down as she cries into her pillow.  She hears voices in her living room and her front door open and shut, but she doesn’t really care.

It’s later, after she's finished up work, which she had not actually lied about this morning, someone softly knocks at her door.  She looks through the peephole and sighs, unbolting the lock and opening the door.

“Are you still mad?” is the first thing he asks, and she’d laugh if she wasn’t sort of exhausted.

“I wasn’t mad.” She says and Frank raises his eyebrows, “I wasn’t,” she insists, “I think I just hit the amount of lying my body can take.” She says, and still doesn’t invite him in.

“Lying about what?” he asks, and he’s just looking at her, and she wants to let him in but she has to say her piece first.

“About us to my only friends, my best friends.  Or about how much you and Matt actually fight.  Which, speaking of, I’m assuming you got that from him?” she asks, nodding at the blossoming bruise around his eye, when he doesn’t answer she nods her head slowly, accepting.

“I know he’s your, friend,” Frank says haltingly, “but I don’t think me and him will ever-“

“I know,” she says cutting him off, and, this time, she lets him in, pulling at his wrist lightly.  She leads him back to the couch where they spent their short-lived peaceful morning, “and I don’t really expect you to.  I think I just needed to tell someone, I don’t know why I didn’t to begin with come to think of it.  It's just hard, you know, because everyone's fine with these sides but I just  _can't-_ I care about all of you and who am I suppose to cheer on when both of my teams are losing?” She whispers the last part, not really wanting an answer, she just wants it out there, between them.

He pulls her closer on the couch and buries his head in her hair, they sit there together silently for a while and she’s almost asleep when he talks again, “You know, I’ve got an idea on how me and Red can get along.”

“What’s that?” she mumbles into his chest, her eyes still closed.

“I was buying some stuff the other day,” he starts, “and I saw some sort of bracelet near the register, and it was a two piece, and basically, it was a heart with best on one side and friend on the other, and I thought ‘hey, maybe Red’ll like this.’  And so I thought if I gave you one half to give to him I’ll keep the other.  Or I could knock him out and slip it on his unconscious body.  Or-“

She head-butt’s his now shaking chest with her head, but even she can’t repress her laughter, “Asshole.” She says, and he kisses the top of her head.

-x-   

It’s a couple of days later, her and Matt are at a café trying to hash things out like normal, living adults that aren’t plagued by blood and death all the time, when she sees _it_ , “Matt.” She says uncertainly, blinking a few times.

“Yeah?” he says, sipping at his latte.

“Where’d you get that?” and she points at his wrist.

He lifts his arm up and jingles the bright orange bracelet, “You know, it’s kind of weird actually, I just kind of woke up with it after- well, uh, I mean, I woke up with a note that apparently said ‘ _don’t take it off, or else_.’ In really threatening chicken scratch.”

“And you kept it on?”

“Well, it was threatening, or so Foggy said.”

“Matt, you fight bad guys for a living.”

“But-“

“No!” she says, only a bit shrill, “No excuses, give it here, I’m gonna go burn it.”

Matt frowns and clutches at his wrist protectively, “What, no, I like it.”

Karen drops her arm back down, “You like it?” she asks incredulously

He nods his head, “Well, it means something, I guess.  To me.”

“To you?”

“Mmhm.”

“Alright,” she says, defeated, all the men in her life are so weird, she can accept that, “keep it.”

**Author's Note:**

> 6:09 am, i think im accepting the fact that i only write about these two in the am's 
> 
> anyway, to literally say the same things over and over again in different fics i've written, i'm really tired and i will fix all (most) mistakes tomorrow..
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope u enjoyed!!
> 
> You can follow me at my tumblr, a-small-jewel-shard.tumblr.com


End file.
